


If The Stars Were Mine

by Darkhymns



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gift Giving, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - Exiled Queen Ending, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:44:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhymns/pseuds/Darkhymns
Summary: If there was a chance Toriel's wishes could be granted, Sans will do what he can. She's worth the effort.





	If The Stars Were Mine

**Author's Note:**

> For [Soriel Week 2017](https://sorielweek.tumblr.com/), Day 7: Free Day.
> 
> Inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLFKKY5RHxc) by Melody Gardot.

Toriel never had nice cream before.

“you’ve _never_ had nice cream before?” Sans asked her, incredulous. Shocked, even.

The boss monster nodded, holding the small frozen treat in great hands. It dwarfed against her size, but she held it with such gentleness, as if she would cradle it to sleep then and there. “I must admit that I have not. And I am usually quite a connoisseur of sweets.”

“gotta admit, nice cream is a whole ‘nother level.” Sans, holding his own nice cream cone, juggled it in his hand, letting not one drop fall in with gravity-defying skill. “it’s not like you’re playing with fire anymore.”

“I know. I suppose I will just have to get used to it!”

It was adorable the way she said it. Her tone was airy, casual, and fun, and her eyes were bright as she started to eat her treat. He had no idea why the nice cream guy seemed so nervous when he gave her choice of a frozen treat to warm the heart. The old lady would barely hurt a bug if she could help it. (Luckily, snails didn’t count as insects).

“so we made it this far,” Sans said after they both finished eating, eye sockets observing their current destination. Long, rolling snowbanks and lines of pine trees surrounded both of them as they left the nice cream cart. Snowflakes drizzled over them, hanging onto Toriel’s floppy ears, making it seem as if she wore some lop-sided earmuffs. “ready to make it past the bridge?”

It always ended the same way.

Toriel’s last, true journey through the Underground had not been so very long ago. But after trying to regain her crown and take up the missing ache that Asgore’s death had left behind, some hadn’t been very receptive to her. A certain someone especially, with sharp teeth, one eye, and a temper brimming with bitterness along with a taste for revenge. Now, Sans could definitely get Undyne’s resentment, but still… gotta respect your elders and all that.

Toriel’s steps slowed just as they made it to the foot of the wooden bridge. The backdrop that Papyrus had painted to the sides, to create the illusion of a fall from such precarious heights, still held up pretty well. Man, his bro was so cool, and so was the stuff he made. Toriel had thought so too when he brought her on their last trek through Snowdin. Maybe this time he could show her Papyrus’ traps at the end of the bridge.

If she took that step.

Toriel faltered, bringing her hands to her chest. She looked at Sans with grave apology. “I am… truly sorry. But I do not think I am, as you say, ready.”

Sans scuffed a slipper in the snow, damping it nicely. “well if you’re afraid to walk, how about a run? or a jump even? go so fast you’ll barely know what happens.”

Toriel pressed a hand to her muzzle to stifle her giggles. “Perhaps if you show me a demonstration.”

“now tori, you know that’s a deal that i will absolutely have to refuse. i got a reputation to uphold.”

It made her laugh again, but not even his lazybones jokes could get her to shift closer, to take those steps again on the bridge, to get to the town, maybe share a cinnamon bunny along the way –

She stepped back again. Her smile faded.

“I am so sorry, Sans,” she said, eyes downcast. The snow continued to fall, building up on her shoulders.

With not even a sigh, the skeleton pulled at her sleeve. Her hand extended back down so that he could take it in own. “s’okay. maybe next time.”

* * *

Honestly, he might not have gotten Toriel out of the Ruins at all if it weren’t for his coolest bro around.

“OH, HELLO.” Papyrus popped his skull into the hallway as he continued his housework, vacuum in one hand with a bone duster in the other. (So much more efficient than the uncool feather duster). “DID YOU BOTH HAVE FUN ON YOUR IMPROMPTU TRIP?”

It took Toriel a while to get used to Papyrus’ exuberance, but just like Sans, she could only love the excitable skeleton who took her guardian duties to heart. That, and he really wore her dress quite flatteringly!

“I HAVE WATERED THE FLOWERS AS YOU HAVE INSTRUCTED, YOUR HONOR.” Papyrus bowed to her, raising the vacuum just a bit and nearly knocking aside the fire pokers from their designated holder in the corner. “I HAVE ALSO LEFT A SLICE OF MY OWN PIE RECIPE BY THE FLOWERS IN CASE A FALLEN HUMAN GETS HUNGRY!”

“Oh! That is very perceptive of you, Papyrus.” Toriel smiled gently as she carefully steered the vacuum back to the floor. “Although I do not suspect a human will fall this soon.”

“think of it as a gift to the local residents,” Sans suggested. “neighbors love getting free stuff.”

“Ah, that is true,” Toriel agreed. “I shall make sure to mail them some notes about the free pie as well!”

Now, whether it would be notes warning about the pie or a pre-emptive apology instead, that’s a mystery that Sans was too lazy to solve.

“DID SANS INVITE YOU OVER TO OUR MOST HUMBLE BUT SUPER COOL ABODE?” Papyrus, hefting up the hem of his new purple dress, walked over to the fireplace to stoke the flames with a random fibula. “I MUST APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE TO THE SAD STATE OF AFFAIRS THAT IS SANS’ SIDE OF THE LIVING ROOM COUCH. BUT I MUST ALSO CONGRATULATE YOU, FOR YOU HAVE SURELY DISCOVERED A HEFTY TREASURE OF TWENTY GOLD. CONSIDER IT A HOUSEWARMING GIFT, FOR WARMING WHAT MUST BE OUR COLD AND DEAD HOUSE.”

Toriel hesitated, but instantly cleared it away with sweeping footwork towards the kitchen. “I have yet had the opportunity to visit your home, Papyrus, but I am most excited for the next time. How about I get dinner started for you two? After doing so much for me today?”

“just make sure to give me some extra ketchup.”

“YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE’S MAKING, BROTHER.”

“don’t matter, just don’t skimp on the ketchup.”

“Of course! I remember the rules set on our last, how did you term it, our ‘Roommate meetings!’”

Those usually consisted of Toriel asking after everybody’s happiness, followed by Papyrus’ twenty-minute explanations of spaghetti cuisine and its form of artistry, and concluded by Sans and Toriel ‘pun-off’ which always made his bro leave for his room. It was always very chill. Sans was its biggest fan.

After three months, things were really looking up. He’d even got Toriel to go outside with him for their walks just around two weeks ago.

When she walked into the kitchen, Papyrus leaned down to Sans’ level in a conciliatory manner. “SANS, HAVE YOU MADE SURE TO KEEP YOURSELF UP TO DATE WITH THE DATING MANUAL?”

Sans snickered. “heh. yep. kept up to _date_ alright.”

It took Papyrus a moment to understand the implications. He physically jolted at the realization. “I DIDN’T MEAN THAT.”

“bro, it’s so good to see you taking after me. you must totally look up to me. and that’s really something, considering.”

“I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO HUMOR THAT ONE IN THE SLIGHEST BIT.”

And well, not like Papyrus was wrong. Sans’ dating game was rusty for a multitude of reasons, and only half of them did he even remember. He may not know what do with an egg, and he supposed knowing the intensity of the current crime rate was useful when scoping out some good dating spots, but Snowdin had the lowest crime statistics in the Underground. (Coincidentally, when he moved out with Papyrus to the Ruins. Also coincidentally, crime rates in the Ruins had skyrocketed by two percent).

Toriel’s humming floated out from the kitchen, mixing well with Papyrus’ own, shrieking humming as he vacuumed the walls and bone-dusted the mantlepiece, creating a cacophony on the eardrums. It was a good atmosphere for Sans to take a nap in.

Though as he curled up in the armchair, carrying Tori’s scent of goldenrod and cinnamon, he couldn’t help but think.

Would she be able to get over this?

* * *

Sans didn’t try to take her to the bridge the next time, but he did take her to another cool spot.

The gyftrot was all suspicious eyes as they passed it by. “Are you gonna mess with me?” it hissed, but no decorations hung from its antlers. No one must have messed with it since the kid had come through here, pulling off cruel ribbons from defenseless monsters with one hand and then slicing down monster kings with the other. Typical hero’s journey, Sans supposed.

“Sans, are you taking me down a dark and deserted alleyway?” Toriel asked with a mysterious glint in her eye.

“geez, lady. think that low of me?” Sans shook his skull. “nah, just taking you to this abandoned doorway into thick darkness instead.”

“Ah. Yes, that sounds much more like you.”

She followed him easily into the cave that cut into the mountain top, and she never faltered as the shadows lengthened in the somewhat small room. Blue-tinted grass crushed underneath their feet. The only light came from the four sprouts of mushrooms that surrounded them, all of them seemingly paving their way towards the mysterious door that Sans had come upon one random day.

“My, it is… quite peaceful here,” Toriel mused aloud. “It reminds me of the marshes in…”

She couldn’t say the name, so Sans helped out. “yeah, looks kinda similar to waterfall, huh?”

Sans walked a little further ahead of her, then plopped straight in the center of the clearing. His hands were in his coat pockets as he craned his head up the cavernous ceiling.

He heard Toriel go up to him. “Are we not going to go through this door?”

“oh, nah. could never get through without cheating, and i kinda don’t wanna today.” He kept his gaze upwards. “hey, wanna ceiling watch?”

Toriel slowly knelt, still so much taller than him by a few feet. Both laid their backs against the other, instead of making it easier for themselves by leaning against the door and sitting side by side.

Old habits, though.

“There are no stars here,” Toriel commented. Wistful, nostalgic.

“some guy named glyde took them all out of the ceiling,” Sans answered her. “said they distracted too much attention from him.”

“Perhaps he is not wrong.” He felt her breath lessen. “The stars are quite remarkable, even for an imitation.”

She told him about stars, real and genuine and hung up so high that you could reach out and never hope to grab them from the sky. It was when he hadn’t yet known her name, but could feel the way her voice bubbled with affection, at the sincerity that flowed from her heart. He only had his old astrology books to compare them to, but it was no match to hearing it from one who had seen them so much.

“We used to be able to wish on shooting stars, though I suppose that is not really possible now.”

“hey, no problem. can just ask my buddy to throw some of those sparkling rocks at us. wish granted.”

He felt her shake with mirth, that giggle that was half-hiccup, and full on joyful. “But, Sans! We cannot risk you cracking your skull!” She laughed again. “Even more than it already is!”

“wow, tori. that’s cold.”

And her voice was soft, and her body was light, barely hurting his spine as they continued to lean against each other.

“ya know, waterfall’s just a stone throw away even.”

She deserved to see these stars again, even if they weren’t real.

“or maybe that bug-hunting spot you once told me about. don’t wanna try that again sometime?”

Toriel went quiet, and Sans took that as a hint to drop it. At the very least, the skeleton knew when to quit. It was his only saving talent, after all. He pressed the base of his skull into her back, her warmth coating his bones like an overly fuzzy hat.

“May I tell you something, Sans?”

Her voice was subdued, rubbing over his consciousness like rustling, crisp paper. It was the kind of sound he kept with him when his shifts were long, or when the day just wouldn’t seem to end, walking over the same paths, greeting the same faces by the bar. He tried not to doze to it, as he had been guilty of more than a few times by that great door.

“listening,” he said.

She breathed, her body shifting and he along with her, like a stubborn-clinging snowflake.

“When I walked back from New Home, I came upon a peculiar flower. Blue, like the rest. And it repeated things, like the rest. I came upon many of those flowers. I believe the children must have been playing with them. There were so many wishes…”

And they all whispered, echoed, pleaded, cried. Sans would walk through the fields during his shifts, blowing raspberries along the way, filling up their petals with nonsense jokes and low chuckles to drown out those lonely, lonely wishes. But they would just come back the next day, as fresh as a cut, their voices bleeding until his skull seeped in red.

And sometimes he’d completely mess up, and whisper a useless wish of his own.

“I heard my son.”

Toriel’s voice remained even, aloof almost. He could imagine a tall monster like her, a crown on her head, her head bowed underneath its weight. She didn’t shift. She was the statue out there in Waterfall, weathered down by the recycled rain, unrecognizable, as impassive as she could be.

“He liked to… imitate. Raise his voice high enough to mimic mine, or lower it for his father. He was so talented. He’d even take the extra effort and make a whole beard-ful of leaves to look like Asgore.”

“dang, even i can’t copy on my tests that good.”

“Oh, Asriel would never cheat. But he liked making fun.” She paused again. “He must have learned it from them.”

Sans had a hunch, but some mysteries should stay mysteries.

“It sounded like that…” Toriel raised her head. He sneaked a peak to the side, seeing how she wrapped her arms around her knees. _“Where oh where could that child be…? I’ve been looking all over for them.”_

It shook, it wavered. He pictured those blue flowers bending over the water’s surface, echoing the ripples, and the soft splashes from the rain, until whole fields sounded like a thunderous storm.

Then Toriel’s voice then rose, harsh and raspy.

_“THAT’S not true.”_

The echo flowers had no discernable scent of pollen. They were like mini caverns in floral form – engulfing sound and shooting it back out in full force. Distorted, wavy, stripped of their texture.

_“She’ll find another kid, and instantly forget about you.”_

Sans looked back up the ceiling, wondering idly where that Glyde guy was.

Toriel’s voice returned to normal. “I do not know when he had even spoken into that flower. It has been so long, so very long…and, I had hoped against hope that I could show him the real stars someday.”

Sans felt bad for thinking, _maybe in another timeline._

Because he knew that wasn’t true.

* * *

The same nice cream worker was there in the caverns yet again. Alone. Friendless. With no company except his product, the numerous “stars” above him, and the echo flowers, rustling and whispering their small pleas.

“Why isn’t this selling?” he said out loud, leaning against his cart full of confectionary (and affectionary) treats. His furry, floppy ears drooped with disappointment. “It’s so dark and cool out here, perfect for eating something cold…”

And then suddenly! A customer!

“hey how you doing.”

Sans’ habit of appearing out of nowhere was no surprise at all to this hard-working, soft-serving monster. He was as natural to the world as the natural formations of the caverns, though this time, with no telescope under his arm. That and his blue jacket was…rather scratched up? And covered in rock gravel?

Sans knew how he looked.

“Hey, you look… exhausted?” the vendor asked, but with hesitation. Rightfully so. Sans and exhaustion were a pair that never wanted to separate.

The skeleton only shrugged, non-comital and unconvincing. He wiped away the weird slime from his skull, one side of his jacket looking slightly lumpy. “nothing new, right?” Eye sockets swiveled to the cart, where nice cream sandwich bars hugged each other, little hearts fluttering above their heads. “gonna order one to go, ok?”

He flipped a gold coin to the vendor, in a way only a cool skeleton guy could do. The nice cream man caught it between his palms. “O-oh ok. same as usual?”

“you know me too well.”

With a drizzle of both ketchup and mustard to offset the sweetness, the nice cream bunny monster started to hand it over. His eyes couldn’t stray off that lump in the front of Sans’ jacket however. “So… uh, working hard or hardly working? Ha ha…”

Not many laughed at his jokes, not when they were so bad. But Sans chuckled predictably. “good, keep it up.” He shifted, and suddenly there was something else clutched in his hand. “i was just scavenging.” He held up a glass jar, the light inside it shining bright. It cast shadows across the rocky floors. “it’s some thirsty work.”

The nice cream monster looked at the treat in his hands, then back to the skeleton. “But this isn’t-“

“i know what i said.”

The light from the jar was not consistent. It faded in intensity, then grew to a point that Sans had to squint his eye sockets. Sans covered it up again, saw how the glow lit up his rib cage in all its macabre glory.

The treat was already in his hands. “see ya. and thanks.”

In a certain spot in the ceiling, a light had gone out.

* * *

It wouldn’t be the real deal. It never will be anyway. So maybe it was all useless?

It was the same as plucking a small flower and giving it to her, and then saying, ‘I know it’s not the same, but cheer up?’

He passed his cool bro who was scrubbing the floors, and the walls, too. Sans waved at him as Papyrus hung up from the ceiling by his feet by… apparently nothing. Either way, it was convenient for his bro to mess with gravity as he scrubbed away at one _stubborn_ little stain that was at the top of the right wall.

No jokes today. There was too much in Sans’ skull.

Toriel was not seated at her chair. Or baking in her kitchen. Or re-arranging her bookshelf once again, trying to fit in more of the books Sans got her from the Librarby. He knew where she’d be. Despite how far he tried taking her past her door, she always wanted to head further backwards, immersing herself into the dark that only she was familiar with it.

Luckily, spooky skeletons like him were pretty good with the dark.

Sans only cheated with one or two shortcuts before he found her at the flowerbed. The color of gold – so bright against the blue-purple walls, and the surrounding shadows of pitch – was a hard thing to miss. Toriel was just before it, careful to not mess up their arrangement. Some of the petals were curled strangely, and at least more than one flower was overcrowded by another – but they were healthy, their blank faces reaching for a sun that only peeked in for a few hours of the day.

Toriel was doing the same, face upturned to a dark sky. Only half a dozen or so pinpricks of light could be seen through that small opening of the Underground. The only opening.

“stargazing?”

She didn’t flinch at his voice, or at the sudden appearance at her side. She also never questioned it, strangely enough.

“Please allow an old lady her strange hobbies.”

“never said anything about strange.”

Almost shyly, carefully, like porcelain or brittle bones, or something much more fragile, he took out the jar. The stones clinked together in their confinement, alternating their brightness whenever Sans shifted. Toriel looked down, and the light of the stars he nabbed shone so bright within her eyes – their shade of fallen, dying leaves.

“figured when you passed through waterfall, you didn’t get much chance to make a wish.” The starlight (manufactured, with properties heightened by both earthly magic and natural chemicals that pulsed around the Underground – and how he actually _knew_ this, he was never sure of) had a twinkle that mimicked those he saw from far up above. And for a moment, he could imagine standing up above, feeling more than a hint of a night breeze, and the faint murmur of crickets and night birds.

Or maybe Toriel was rubbing off on him.

“so, in case the stars over here don’t hear your wish, i got you some spare ones.” He winked. “just keep ‘em at home and make a wish whenever you want.”

Toriel remained silent as she took the stars from his hand, marveling at them. They were just rocks essentially, nothing amazing like the real stars, not at all. Yet she was holding them, as if she truly held a fragment of the heavens down here in the darkness.

“Sans,” she whispered, and her throat was raw and breathless. But she smiled. “You are much too kind to me.” She looked back at the stars. The brightness did nothing to make her shield her view. “I… I do not deserve such a gift. I have made so many mistakes-”

“t.” Sans placed a hand against her own, hindering the light slightly. It slipped through his bony fingers, painting stripes of silver across the walls. “you wanna make a wish now?”

Rubbing a hand at her cheek, she shook her head – but happily so. “I have already made my wish today. I will save my next one for tomorrow… with these.” She hugged the jar full of stars in her arms. “So I don’t use them up so much.”

“nah, don’t worry. there’s always spares ready. just a stone’s throw away.”

“Yes…” Sans saw the sliver of a moon far above, how it neatly highlighted Toriel’s horns – breathtaking, he would think, if he had any to begin with. “Are you sure you won’t need help next time? Your jacket is quite dirty.” Then she laughed. “More than usual!”

“tori, are you offering to do my gift giving for me? gotta say, it’d be easier finding you presents when you get them in my place. i already like this idea.”

She laughed even more, still clutching to the stars. “Come, I can mend your clothes when we get home.”

Those same stars would stay perched on her desk in her room. She’d cover it with a shroud when she slept, but, sometimes, he could see the silver light shining its beams from underneath her door.

Later, Sans wondered what she wished for before he found her. He figured it was too private to ask, and knew that it would be a wish he’d never hear.

Unlike those in Waterfall, the flowers here kept their secrets.


End file.
